Chapter Four
When I came downstairs, showered and dressed for our day of orientation at Starlight Studios, Mort and Seth were already seated at the dining room table, sipping coffee and splitting a newspaper.
I had printed the studio schedule at home and placed it in a folder, which I set down on the table before finding the coffeepot on a sideboard already set up with plates, utensils, and a warming tray, just awaiting food.
I helped myself to a cup, took a moment to savor the aroma of the rich roast carried aloft by the steam, and was headed back to the table when Victoria backed open a door while carrying two trays, one heaped with eggs and another with bacon.
“Goodness, Victoria,” I said. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. Coffee and something simple like muffins would have been just fine.”
“Nonsense, Aunt Jess,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “No empty carbs for you. We’ll supply your whole team with some proper brain food before we send you off to the studio.”
Howard exited the kitchen carrying a tray of miniature waffles and a basket of fresh fruit. “Besides,” he said, “this is great practice for when we have paying guests. Oh, I forgot the syrup.”
“And maybe the butter?” Seth said hopefully.
I sat down with my coffee. “Maureen sleeping in?”
“No, ma’am,” Mort said. “When I came down, she was fixing her hair for the third time. I told her it looked fine the first two times, and I was worried if I said it again, she’d bite my head off, so I skedaddled down here.”
“Coward,” Seth said from behind his newspaper.
“That doesn’t sound like Maureen,” I said.
“No, it’s not,” Mort said. “I think the idea of being on television just became a little too real. You know how reserved she can be.”
I did. I recalled how hesitant she initially was to speak her mind at the various committee meetings back in Cabot Cove.
She’d been a little more vocal of late, more confident in expressing her opinions, and she seemed to really enjoy trivia night at Riley’s, but being on national television?
I could see how she might feel out of her element. “No regrets, I hope,” I said.
“If you’re talking about me,” Maureen said from the doorway, “no regrets, but terrible stage fright.” She headed toward the coffee.
“That and my hair just got all poofy. I think maybe it’s the difference in the water.
” She looked up at Howard who had just come back in with syrup and butter.
“Do you have any decaf? I don’t think I can handle regular right now. I’m jittery enough.”
“Coming right up.” He headed back into the kitchen.
She slid into a spot next to Mort. “I’m so glad today is just orientation. Gives me another whole day to try to figure out my hair. Maybe get rid of the dark circles under my eyes.”
“Maybe if someone hadn’t been up until all hours leafing through that silly scrapbook,” Mort said.
“I couldn’t help it,” Maureen said. “Jess, you have to read it. Danielle lived such an interesting life. I thought it would all be glamour and parties and love affairs, but there was a lot of tragedy, too. She had to fight her parents in the courts just to get access to some of the money that she earned in her early films. Even then, it was a long, drawn-out battle, and later, when it was discovered her older brother embezzled a lot of it, he killed himself, and her parents never spoke to her again.”
“That’s so sad,” I said.
“I think she must have been really lonely,” Maureen continued, pausing to thank Howard for slipping a hot cup of decaf in front of her.
“I suspect that was her whole motivation for keeping a big cat. She said she never knew love until Quimby entered her life. She never married, and she doesn’t mention even seriously dating anyone, maybe because she was working so hard.
She had a breakdown when she was in her twenties and went to some sanatorium in the Adirondacks to recover. ”
“A lion in the house,” Seth said with a sigh, then pushed himself up. “If you ask me, that’s what sent her over the edge. It’s taking a big risk.”
“I don’t think wild animals should be taken as pets either,” Mort said. “I hate answering a call only to be warned they have a pet snake or tarantula or something on the loose. I can’t imagine being told there was a lion in the house, but I guess people thought different then.”
“Or maybe it was a celebrity thing,” Maureen said. “If I remember correctly, Joan Collins had a monkey. Zsa Zsa Gabor kept sheep.”
“Elvis had a wallaby,” Howard chimed in.
“Didn’t Mike Tyson have white Bengal tigers?” Mort said.
“That didn’t end well,” Seth said. “Kinda proves my point.”
“Not arguing with you, Doc,” Mort said, then stood up and fixed himself a plate from the sideboard.
I made myself a plate of eggs and fruit when I got up for another coffee, then flipped open my folder.
“Is that the schedule from Jenny Yager?” Maureen asked.
I nodded while I finished a mouthful of eggs and washed it down with a sip of the strong, hot brew. As the contestant coordinator, she’d sent a lot of paperwork, including contracts and disclaimers. “She’s going to meet us all by security in the studio’s parking garage at eight.”
“I hope we find her,” Maureen said. “She used her dogs as a profile picture in her email, so I have no idea what she looks like.”
By this point, I had seen Jenny’s dogs so often I could have picked them out of a lineup.
Then again, they were special dogs. Not any discernible breed or pedigree, but a shaggy gray one was missing a front limb, and the other had only one eye.
That she’d apparently adopted special-needs dogs spoke well of her character.
“Why so early?” Howard asked.
“All our days start early,” I said. “We have to all get through hair and makeup before they tape a couple of segments, and then I guess we get a break before they go live in the afternoon.”
“That might work to our advantage,” Seth said, “since we’re coming from the Eastern Time zone.”
“It might help if we stick to that schedule,” I said.
“Ayuh,” Seth said, rubbing his hands together. “Early to bed and early to rise. Maybe it will make us all a little wealthier.” He raised his coffee cup in a mock toast.
“Six teams of four members apiece.” Mort did the math in his head. “Maybe more if any of them brought an alternate. That’s a lot of contestants for a game show.”
“Do you think we should have brought an alternate?” Maureen asked, and not for the first time. “Dan Andrews would have been excellent. Or maybe Albert Pellecchia?”
“We’ve been over this,” Mort said.
“Ayuh,” Seth said. “It was a lot to ask of somebody to take time off work, pay for the whole trip with no guarantee of recouping any of the cost, and probably not even end up being on television.”
“I could do it.” Howard, who had been checking on the sideboard, joined us at the table with his coffee.
“I’d be happy to be your alternate. In fact, I was just reading an article in Variety about the show.
It’s creating some real buzz. Some think it’s revolutionary.
Marty Wardell, that’s the producer, described it as the perfect mash-up of game show and reality television.
Even if I never made it in front of the camera, I’d love a front-row seat. ”
“Reality television,” Seth grumbled, getting up for another helping. “If it’s death-defying stunts they’re after, they can count me out.”
“Oh, nothing like that,” Howard said. “Like with any pub trivia, there’s always a chance for conflict within a team. Arguing over answers, personality conflict, power plays, that kind of thing.”
“Oh, we never do that,” Maureen said.
“But we have seen other teams get a bit worked up,” Mort said.
I nodded. After our initial win at Riley’s, we’d gone back several times, bundling a nice meal with practice for the show, and a few teams could get a little rowdy and argumentative. I wasn’t sure if it was the competition or alcohol fueling their behavior.
“And conflict makes good television,” Howard said. “It’s also one of just a handful of game shows ever made to be aired live. Most are recorded weeks or months in advance and are heavily edited.”
“Why choose to go live, then?” Seth said, adding a generous smear of butter to his waffles before dousing them in syrup.
“Apparently there’s an app that allows viewers to participate from home,” Howard said.
“The article didn’t really give all the details, but prizes will be awarded to viewers who get the most correct responses themselves.
And they can’t really do that if twenty-some contestants and the whole crew already know the answers.
Too much of a risk for leaks. This is kind of entertainment history being made. ”
“Still, I wish we weren’t in the very first week,” Maureen said. “It would have been nice to see how the whole game played out, watch others do it.”
“Or maybe it’s better you’re on early,” Howard said. “They hired Bobby Brandon as the host, and he’s had a couple of flops already. Two one-season wonders. Well, one and a half. One was such a dog they dropped it after just a few weeks. So…what’s the answer? Can I be your alternate?”
I laughed. “I have no objections.”
“Fine with me,” Maureen said.
“I don’t know,” Mort said, rubbing his chin, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eye. “How do we know you won’t cave under pressure?”
“Mort,” Maureen protested, “he’s a professional actor!”
“I’d still like to see a little proof.” Then a sly smile appeared. “Will you sing Pepe’s jingle?”
Howard rolled his eyes while Maureen glared at her husband.
“Welcome aboard,” Seth said.
I raised one finger to curb Howard’s exuberant response. “We will have to check with the coordinator, make sure we can still add an alternate this late in the game.”
“Oh, of course,” Howard said, but retained a big smile.
* * *